


i just need someone to stay

by howyoubrewing



Series: skyguy and snips [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Close Calls, Force Healing, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Mission Fic, Missions Gone Wrong, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howyoubrewing/pseuds/howyoubrewing
Summary: “You’re all I have!” She screams, and she feels tears wet on her cheeks. "You can’t leave me too. Please. I can’t."Within the span of one mission, Anakin and Ahsoka both almost lose each other. Ahsoka realizes how much that scares her.
Series: skyguy and snips [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932007
Kudos: 76





	i just need someone to stay

The last half dozen or so campaigns were relatively uneventful—Anakin hadn’t managed to get either one of them blown up, and the clones had suffered very minimal losses. Her and her master had traded jokes and spirits were high, and they were the types of missions that made her feel more optimistic about the war ending. Truthfully, she took those missions for granted.

The current campaign isn’t going well to say the least. The troops are suffering heavy casualties, visibility’s shit thanks to the intense storm that arrived unannounced to the planet a few hours ago, and her and Anakin are the only Jedi here to help. Obi-Wan and the 212th are flanking behind them, and she's surprised they came along because at this point in the war the Council can barely find enough Jedi for all the Separatist messes in the galaxy that need attending to. She’s just grateful her and Anakin aren’t separated much anymore.

The rain constantly blurring her vision is pissing her off almost as much as the seemingly constant reinforcements the Seppies are receiving. It seemed like as soon as the boys finished off a batch of droids in one sector, another appeared and effortlessly took its place. Force, you’d think they’d be running out of funds by now.

She’s getting tired; it’s been hours and hours since this siege began, and they aren’t making any headway. The Separatist fortress still stands strong, plenty of droids facing them down with a constant barrage of blaster fire. It’s even harder because her and the men are at an obvious disadvantage—not only do they have the lower ground, the droids all firing from vantage points far above them, but the rainstorm is making movement and visibility nearly impossible. Several tanks had already gotten stuck in the mud, and she keeps slipping in the muck.

As she continues plowing towards their target, she thinks absently about the fight her and Anakin had on the way to the drop, in the transport ship, shouting at each other while the clones stood uncomfortably by. He hadn’t wanted her on this mission in the first place, concerned about the unknowns of the Seppie fortress and the fact that it had only been a few days since she got back from her last deployment. He had brought it up again on the transport, telling her to stay close and _not to get any ideas_ which pissed her off a great deal—when he got protective like this, he treated her like a youngling. Like she was incapable of doing the one thing she’d been trained to do since three years old. It was infuriating and insulting and she had shouted something along those lines at him, as well as threatening that she was going to do what she wanted when they arrived, because they were under the Council’s orders.

She may have also reminded him that _he_ wasn’t on the Council, which did not go over well.

Ahsoka sees a break in the lines and pushes through with her men—finally, _finally,_ they make it to the gates of the fortress. It’s strangely unprotected from this close, and a simple lightsaber cut to the door creates their entry point. She decides it would probably be overly stupid to go ahead without her Master (and probably make him even more mad) so she waits until he arrives, equally covered in muck and grime and looking very disgruntled. He hardly addresses her, and it further kindles the anger deep in her stomach.

_Why can’t he just trust her for once?_

She follows after him as they raid the compound, the hallways empty except for the occasional droid, and it’s starting to feel strange. Where are the rest of the army? Surely they’d be inside waiting for them.

“Maybe we should have waited—” Ahsoka starts, annoyed, but Anakin cuts her off with a sharp look.

“I don’t want to _hear it_ , Ahsoka!” He snaps, and the harshness makes her scowl back at him.

She’s about to yell at him, because she’s so _tired_ of his attitude, why was he so grouchy today anyways—when she hears a soft beeping noise.

“What’s—”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence as the building explodes in on itself.

—

Ahsoka wakes up half-buried in rubble, the world very dark, and all her body can process is _pain._

She calls on the Force to help move the metal off her, which miraculously has not impaled her, and assesses her injuries.

She gapes a little at her leg—clearly broken, a bloody mess from something collapsing on it, and a few severe gashes across her arms and legs. Her head spins and she fights nausea as she looks away from her leg. Kix can fix it later; there’s nothing she can do about it now, and she needs to find Anakin (as annoying as he’s been today, she’s worried).

Shoving what she can of the debris away, she coughs and attempts to clear her lungs of the smoke.

“Master?” She shouts. He’s probably fretting, already looking for her.

There is no answer.

“Anakin! Where are you?” Her voice simply echoes across the mostly caved-in hallway.

She’s scanning desperately, a slow fear creeping up into her throat, when she spots him and her heart sinks.

He’s bleeding, and she’s never seen him bleed _this_ much in the years that she’s fought with him, never seen it this bad. He’s so _still_ and helpless on the ground and half-buried in debris, and she can’t tell if she’s choking on her panic or the dust in the air from the explosion.

“Master,” she croaks, coughing, crawling towards him desperately. Her head pounds and her leg screams in pain with every move—she’s decided it’s best not to look at it for now. The burns on her arms protest as she drags herself up to Anakin and pushes the debris off him. “Anakin! No, no, no—”

The fear is icy cold and threatening to crush her heart like a vice, but she screams at herself to _think._ Assesses his injuries, not that she can do much right now, far away from their troops and with no med supplies and stuck in this collapsing hellhole of a Separatist base.

Ahsoka eases a hand under his head so it isn’t being poked by rubble. His eyes flutter weakly as she tries to discover the main source of blood, moving his robes aside and getting her fingers soaked in red in the process. Force, so much _blood._ Could a person live after losing this much?

“ ‘Soka…” Anakin groans, his eyes still just halfway open. She leans over him, willing him to crack a joke and get up and be fine.

“It’s okay, Master,” she says in as calm a voice she can, “you’re a little hurt but we’re gonna get you some help okay?”

“You…okay?” His words are slurred and thick; a very concerning sign.

“Don’t worry about me.”

He squints at her with great effort. “You’re…bleeding.” For the first time she registers the blood trickling down her temple, the taste of iron in her mouth mingled amongst the dirt.

Ahsoka squeezes his hand. “I’m not the one who’s gushing blood.” She attempts to laugh, but it comes out as a choked noise. His eyes are glazed and unfocused, and she finally locates the grisly wound in his side, shrapnel sticking out of his abdomen, the blood coating her fingers as she tries not to panic. She remembers what Kix has taught her, not to remove a large object if stuck in someone, although she definitely never thought it would happen in real life. She leaves the piece of metal in, knowing she needs to keep it steady and not disturb the wound site.

Of course, if nobody found them it wouldn’t matter what she did. He would bleed out or die of an infection in her arms as she watched, or they would both die from lack of oxygen. Neither were comforting thoughts, but she would rather die here than abandon him.

Plus, she reminds herself, even if she wanted to leave, her leg is in too poor shape to walk out of here.

“Master,” she shakes him as gently as she can. “I need you to stay awake for me, okay?” She wipes some grime off his face, coughing again as more dust sweeps through the air. She slams her hand over her comm again, hoping that some sort of frequency signals the boys their location. Whether the channels were still operational, she didn’t have a clue.

“Am I…dying, Snips?” He’s practically delirious now, and the question sends a sharp ache through her heart. Saying it out loud makes it more real, and her heart pounds.

“No!” She says fiercely, and he winces a little at the intensity. “Sorry, Master. It’s just…no. You won’t.”

But Ahsoka knows the time is running out—if she doesn’t do some sort of Force healing, it’ll be too late when help arrives. She’s desperate.

She’s never healed more than a scrape or minor cut; certainly not a life-threatening injury. That was for Knights and Masters, as it took an enormous amount of focus, energy and connection to the Force that most Padawans didn’t have yet. Obi-Wan would probably discourage her from even trying—if it went wrong, the consequences could be dire.

Ahsoka doesn’t care. She’ll do anything to save him. Even she has to die trying.

She closes her eyes and reaches out to the Force, the chaos of the distant battle humming faintly. She pushes out the distractions, until it is just her and the Force and her bond with Anakin. His life force is pulsing weakly, barely hanging out, and she calls out to the Force desperately.

_Please._

_“’Soka,_ ” Anakin’s voice in her mind, through their bond. “ _What are you doing? Stop! You’ll hurt yourself!”_

“ _No! I won’t let you die!”_

“ _Maybe it’s my time, little one.”_

 _“You’re all I have!”_ She screams, and she feels tears wet on her cheeks. _You can’t leave me too. Please. I can’t._

Ahsoka shoves his voice aside, ignoring any further protests. She visualizes his injuries, the gaping wounds in his abdomen that are painful even to her as she reaches out to them. Like an IV in the medbay, she allows the Force to siphon her energy into mending Anakin; she sends healing and calm through their bond, a whirlwind of life and pain.

For a while it’s slow progress, like pushing a boulder uphill, and she’s fighting both his injuries and the Force, fighting against death itself as she reaches into the void and prays the galaxy will be merciful today.

 _Please,_ she begs the Force, her shoulders heaving with sobs, _please. I’ll do anything. I can’t lose him._

She’s never thought about what she would do if Anakin died. She isn’t sure she can go on if he isn’t okay.

Suddenly the Force reacts, and it’s like an explosion has gone off; she feels the Force accept her please, senses them clicking into place, the gears of the galaxy turning. His healing accelerates, and his life-force steadies. Her eyes snap open and she feels the effects instantly.

She slumps against Anakin, suddenly too weak to hold him up, her body drained. Her injuries throb even worse than before, her head pounding; she feels sick, hot with fever, shaking.

Anakin’s passed out, she realizes with a start, but she sees some of the color has returned to his face. The wound in his side has clotted, no longer bleeding uncontrollably, and seems to already be knitting itself together slowly.

Ahsoka wraps her arms around him protectively, slumping over him, like she can keep his listless body safe with her maybe-dying one. _He’s okay,_ she repeats over and over to herself, like a prayer. _He isn’t gonna die._

“You’re okay, Master,” she whispers. “I got you.”

She goes unconscious—in and out, for what could be hours or minutes—never losing her grip of Anakin no matter how delirious she grew.

She starts awake at a loud noise—the creaking of metal, shouts echoing around them.

“General Kenobi! We found them.”

Someone is next to her, attempting to move her arms off Anakin.

“No!” She bursts out, her grip on him tightening.

“Sir,” the voice says, softer now, “you’re safe now. We need to get you both to medical.”

Ahsoka realizes at last that it’s Rex. Her arms are shaking so much she has a hard time clearing the way for Kix to get to Anakin. Rex helps move her out of the way—he frowns and puts a hand to her forehead.

“You’re burning up, sir,” he observes worriedly.

“I’m fine,” she snarls, too defensively, trying to get to her feet and follow as they carry Anakin out.

Ahsoka stumbles as her body gives out, betraying her in front of the Captain. She’s forgotten her mangled leg, and she lets out a cry.

Rex grabs her as she falls, black spots dancing in her vision. She’s nearly convulsing now, trying to speak, trying to tell them she’s okay and they need to fix Anakin—

“Ahsoka,” comes a gentle voice—Obi-Wan. “Dear one. Anakin will be fine. _You_ are in quite a state.” He kneels next to her, Rex still holding her, and puts a hand on her cheek comfortingly.

“Master—” she chokes.

“Rest now, little one,” he assures, and she feels the sleep suggestion pull at her through the Force.

Her eyes close and she’s lost to oblivion.

—

Ahsoka wakes slowly, body protesting, confusion swirling deep around her. Why do her lungs burn and her leg ache? She touches her head and feels bandages.

_Anakin._

Her eyes shoot open with a gasp, scanning the medbay frantically. Where is he, where _is_ he—

“Hey, Snips.”

Anakin’s voice is ragged and weary, but the affectionate edge still shines through with the use of the nickname. She turns to see him in the bed next to her—in her panic she failed to notice him—bandaged and bruised but very much alive.

Ahsoka lets out a sob of relief before she can stop herself, covering her mouth. “You’re okay.”

“Of course I am, Snips, you saw to that,” he grins. “ _Force healing?_ The Council can hardly do that! You’re insane.” He reaches out and takes her hand, squeezes.

She holds it tightly. “I thought you were going to…” She couldn’t say it out loud.

“I’m here. Thanks to you. I am so proud of you, Snips. Although I don’t want you trying Force healing anytime soon. Obi-Wan said you were in bad shape when they found us.” He frowns. She knows Anakin isn’t the best with emotions, but she can see the depth of sadness in his eyes as he looks at her; he’s heartbroken she had to witness him like that. To go through that.

“I couldn’t let you die,” she whispers, tears spilling onto her bruised cheeks. “It was horrible.”

“Hey, hey,” he shushes, squeezing her hand again. “You’re stuck with me for a lot longer than that, Snips.”

Ahsoka wipes her eyes, letting out a mix between a laugh and a sob as she smiles for the first time it what feels like months. “I’m glad you’re not dead, Skyguy. You’re not allowed to do that again.”

Anakin smirks. “No promises, my young Padawan.”


End file.
